


Down the Rabbit Hole

by Lynse



Category: Danny Phantom, Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics), Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: College AU, Crossover, Don’t copy to another site, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Jazz starts to seem less and less normal, Post-Series, Secrets, Supernatural - Freeform, Suspense, Wirt thinks Toby and Wendy are crazy, Wirt!POV, but then again they all have secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynse/pseuds/Lynse
Summary: Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title was actually given to me by an anon on tumblr in a [fic title ask](https://ladylynse.tumblr.com/post/178593481946/down-the-rabbit-hole); this is the story I said I’d write to fit such a title. It'll focus on Wirt (OtGW), Toby (Trollhunters), and Wendy (Gravity Falls), and eventually introduce Jazz (Danny Phantom). Post-series for all fandoms, set in college so I suppose technically a college au, not just a future fic. For [lumanae](https://lumanae.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Standard disclaimers apply. Happy New Year, everyone!

Wirt stared.

It was his first week of college. His first week on campus, really, as he’d only moved in the day before term began. (He still had a couple of boxes on his desk to unpack.) He’d heard plenty of crazy stories, but that was to be expected. He’d already learned not to believe everything that came out of his roommate Toby’s mouth, just as he’d learned that he was to call Toby’s grandmother Nana whenever Toby honoured her request to drag him down for a weekend visit so she could get to know him. 

Some classes had given general overviews for their first lecture, and the others had jumped right into it and he felt like he was already scrambling to catch up. Sometimes, he thought it was lucky he’d managed to make it to class on time, especially since he’d already gotten lost in the basement of the chemistry building looking for the place his biology lab would be held next week. Frankly, he was lucky that Toby had taken pity on him and given him the rundown on the best places on campus to get food and caffeine, not to mention showing him a couple of underground shortcuts he hadn’t even realized existed.

It had been a crash course, but he’d learned the ropes.

At least, he’d thought he had.

But that was before Toby’s friend Wendy ‘straight out of the wilds of Oregon’ Corduroy had smuggled an axe into their dorm room.

“That’s…that’s an actual axe,” Wirt said. He knew the door was closed, knew it was locked, knew no one could possibly walk in on them, but he managed to tear his eyes off the axe just long enough to check again anyway.

Wendy snorted. She was perched on Toby’s desk, already reaching into her pocket for a stick of gum. “It’s a hatchet, squirt. Which means it’s smaller and lighter than what you’re thinking of.”

“He’s not technically wrong, though,” Toby said. Wendy stuck her tongue out at him before popping the gum into her mouth.

Maybe he’d accidentally ended up bunking with a psychopath.

Toby picked up the hatchet and examined it. “It seems to be weighted well.”

Maybe he could ask for a room reassignment.

“Of _course_ it’s weighted well. You met my family on moving day, Domzalski. I’d be disowned if I couldn’t pick out the best of the bunch.”

This was insane. That was a weapon. It wasn’t allowed. How had she even—!

“I’ll teach you guys how to throw it this weekend,” Wendy said. “It’ll take you a while to get the hang of it.”

“Eh, I figure I’ll pick it up quick,” Toby said with a smirk. “Wirt’s the one who’ll need to figure out the balance when throwing.”

He had no idea how he’d even gotten to be a part of this. Why had they involved him? This would make him an accomplice! Could he even report this without getting into trouble?

Did he want to risk it when his roommate had a hatchet and figured he already knew how to throw it? When he had a friend who definitely _did_ know how to throw it?

“I…I don’t know if I really need to,” Wirt said slowly. “I mean, I’ve already gotten a bunch of readings and assignments—”

“Hey.” Wendy pointed at him. “Neither of you look like you could survive the apocalypse, okay? I just want to make sure my friends are safe if it happens.”

Toby laughed. “I don’t think zombies are what we need to worry about.”

Wendy shrugged. “I never said anything about zombies. But this stays between us. Meet me at my place Saturday morning. We’ll go out to the country for practice, just the three of us.”

“Um.” Wirt swallowed. “What about _your_ roommate?”

“Jazz? I’m not worried about her. She might not look it, but that girl can handle herself. She just doesn’t know how to hide her weapons. You two, on the other hand….”

“Oh, come on, don’t lump me in with him,” Toby said, jabbing a thumb in Wirt’s direction. “I’d be way better in a fight.”

Even _Jazz_ had weapons? That weren’t Wendy’s? He’d only met her for a few minutes when Toby had introduced him to Wendy, barely remembered what she looked like beyond the red hair, but she’d seemed nice. Stable. Unlike the people he was currently with. 

“I’ll be the judge of that on Saturday.” Wendy hopped off the desk. “In the meantime, find a good hiding spot. Concealed but accessible. Sorry I’ve gotta cut and run, but I’m gonna be late for a library study session with my grade-obsessed roomie. Give it three weeks, and then it’ll get to her.” She unlocked the door and tossed a two-fingered salute at them over her shoulder. “Later.”

Wirt slowly sunk down onto his bed even as Toby crossed the floor to lock the door behind Wendy. “What…what are we going to do with that?”

Toby eyed the hatchet for a moment. “Drive some nails into the wall and hide it behind a poster between our beds?”

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s better than behind the dresser. Or under a bed or in one of the desk drawers. When you’re attacked, they don’t really give you time to grab your stuff.”

“Welcome to college, Wirt,” Wirt muttered. Louder, he said, “I don’t even have a hammer.”

Toby grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered.”

-|-

Saturday was a disaster. 

Wendy had had her truck packed by the time they got there, and by ten, Wirt had no idea where they were. After the hour drive and half hour hike, Wendy was setting up targets and Toby had the audacity to start humming.

Things got worse once Wendy’s lessons began. 

Wirt couldn’t seem to hit a target. Any target. No matter how close he was. Well, fine, if he was really close, sometimes he _could_ hit the target, but he couldn’t get anything to stick. Even if the hatchet miraculously hit blade first, he couldn’t get the angle right.

It took him six hours (not including their picnic lunch, courtesy of Wendy) to chip the corner of Wendy’s wooden target. His arm had been aching since the first hour, even when he’d started switching between his throwing arms and taking copious breaks. None of Wendy’s advice helped.

Toby, on the other hand, stuck a bullseye on his third try.

And then he just got more consistent.

“How are you good at this?” Wirt asked at one point.

Toby smirked. “I have many hidden talents.”

Somehow, that wasn’t comforting.

Wendy wound up giving Toby a passing grade, but on the drive home, she informed Wirt that he was slated for extra lessons. “You’re not dying on me,” she said when he tried to protest.

“Funny, I’d believe that more if you weren’t trying to kill me.”

She laughed. “Trust me, I’m not there yet.”

Yet?

“C’mon, I’ll train you,” Toby piped up, nudging him in the shoulder. The truck was only a three-seater, and Wirt was trapped in the middle. “We’ll get a dartboard or something and at least work on your aim. Totally innocuous stuff.”

“I see why you two get on so well,” Wirt grumbled. He had a feeling they wouldn’t let this drop. If that were a possibility, they wouldn’t have gone so far away to train. Or spent most of the daylight doing it.

He didn’t know why, but whatever this was, it wasn’t just some fad for them. Wendy seemed to genuinely believe she was helping, and Toby was too good to just be in it for kicks. He wouldn’t have minded the training, but it couldn’t just be for survival training. Actual survival training would involve more than how to throw a hatchet into a homemade target. He could handle the sewing part, but scavenging? He was little better than he’d been in the Unknown. He was better at playing a musical instrument than crafting something useful. He didn’t—

Seriously. Why were they both so chill about this whole apocalypse thing? Did they think it was a joke? 

Maybe they were hazing him or something. That was a thing in college, wasn’t it? Something people did before you were officially accepted into whatever it was?

Maybe they hadn’t just met, either. Maybe they were actually long-time friends and saw him as a gullible target. And he couldn’t blame them. He’d fallen for a lot over the years. 

But…this was kinda elaborate for a prank, wasn’t it?

It had to be a practical joke, though. There weren’t any other options. How could it _not_ be a joke? This was the real world, not…whatever the Unknown had been. The apocalypse wasn’t _actually_ going to happen. Not in his lifetime. Not unless the Powers that Be decided to fight each other, and he was pretty sure everyone valued their own lives too much for that to happen.

It was possible his new friends were conspiracy theorists, but….

No. More likely, he had an overactive imagination. 

_Way_ more likely.

An overactive imagination, and two new friends who were jokers.

Whatever. Greg would have an idea to get them back. He was better at that sort of thing. For now, Wirt was better off sitting back and trying to enjoy the ride.

-|-

Wirt had no idea how Wendy had gotten a key to their place, but she wasn’t shy about using it.

To be fair, he hadn’t asked Toby if he knew, but he hadn’t wanted to in case he didn’t like the answer. He wasn’t entirely confident that Toby had procured it for her. He’d made the mistake of asking Wendy how she’d gotten it once, and she’d just smirked.

Ignorance seemed safer.

So when she waltzed in when he was trying to wrap his head around his calculus assignment, all he said was, “Toby’s in a bio lab till four and I don’t have time for extra practice.” It wasn’t worth commenting on the fact that he’d locked himself in in an effort to focus.

A futile one, apparently. 

Wendy leaned against the edge of his desk. “You’re getting better, Wirt, but you’re not getting that much better. Do you and Toby even use that dartboard he bought?”

“He does,” Wirt mumbled.

Wendy hummed and picked up one of his assignments and started flipping through it. A month of telling her to stop hadn’t quelled her habit of snooping. Wirt figured it wasn’t worth fighting, that she probably would stop if she knew he was anything more than mildly annoyed, but— “Did you ever have to do derivatives?”

“I’m not here to crunch numbers,” Wendy said without looking up. She was frowning. “Wirt, is this an analogy for death?”

“Is what what?”

“This Unknown place you wrote about.”

Wirt froze. His creative writing assignment. He hadn’t realized that’s what she was looking at. He’d had a few assignments in the last few days that required him to hand in hard copies, but that—

“It’s pretty detailed. I didn’t know you could write like this.” The papers were tossed on top of his math book. “So, spill. Death? Limbo? Purgatory? Or just, like, a coming-of-age story dealing with responsibility and struggles and accepting certain things about yourself and whatever?”

There was a note in her voice he hadn’t heard before. Not desperation, nothing like that, but not joking, either. Not like he’d expect. But it was more than just curiosity. Harder. Like a command lay beneath it.

Wirt carefully flipped the papers back over and moved the assignment off to the side. “Honestly, I don’t even know,” he said. “I just wrote. And tried to stick a bunch of themes in there. It’s probably all of that stuff.”

She stared at him. Pursed her lips. Moved her gaze down to his math work. And then tapped the question he was working on in the textbook and said, “You copied that down wrong. It’s f double prime, not f prime. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

She was gone before he had a chance to ask her why she’d come in the first place.

-|-

Wirt was almost asleep when he heard, “So what’s the Unknown?”

He groaned. “I turned that assignment in _two weeks ago_. Can’t you guys give it a rest?”

“Maybe if you give me an answer. So sue me. Wendy’s got me curious.”

“I’d rather slug you,” Wirt muttered into his pillow, pulling his spare over his head. “Do we have to do this now?”

“It _was_ pretty detailed. How’d you think of it?”

“I have a good imagination.”

A snort. “Huh, and here I thought you might’ve wandered into another dimension.”

Wirt was too tired to laugh. Too tired to _pretend_ to laugh. “You done yet?”

“Almost. One of my friends is on break next week. They’ve got a reading week. She’s coming to visit. She can’t crash here, obviously, but Wendy and Jazz have a couch they said she could call home, so she’ll be around. A lot.”

“Great.”

“I just figured I should warn you.”

“Why would you need to warn me?” A heads up was fine, expected even, but _warning_? Toby didn’t use that word lightly. 

Toby didn’t answer, just mumbled a goodnight before creaking springs and rustling blankets meant he was rolling over and planning on not talking anymore.

Unfortunately, Wirt was already awake.

-|-

When Wirt met Toby’s friend Claire, he understood why Toby got along so well with Wendy.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, very politely shaking his hand. And then, without missing a beat, she turned to Toby. “Why the hatchet behind the movie poster?”

She’d been in their dorm room a grand total of two and a half minutes, tops. Just long enough to finish the introductions. It’s not like the hatchet was _that_ visible; it had taken them forever to hide it beneath the poster so that it couldn’t it be seen, and no one else who had stopped by their room had ever commented on it. So how come she’d managed to spot it so quickly?

She wouldn’t be asking Toby about the hatchet if she’d known where it was, not unless he’d been putting her off until she came in person, but what kind of sense did that make?

Toby grinned. “Insurance,” he said. “Y’know. In case of monsters.”

Claire’s eyebrows rose, and her eyes flicked towards Toby’s desk and then to Wirt before finding Toby again. “Monsters,” she repeated. “Right.”

She didn’t sound skeptical, like a normal person. She…she almost sounded resigned.

“Does it at least have good balance? It’s weighted well?”

Really, it made instant sense that Toby was friends with Claire _and_ Wendy.

Maybe Toby had at least told her to look for _something_ hidden in their room, if not that it was a hatchet. Or maybe he hadn’t told her where it was, just that they had a hatchet in the first place. Maybe she hadn’t just walked in and spotted their secret instantly, without even knowing they were hiding one.

Toby made an exaggerated gesture towards the hidden hatchet. “See for yourself, señorita.”

Claire’s exclamation of delight as she handled the weapon—and, more to the point, the ease with which she wielded it—made Wirt think Toby’s warning hadn’t been entirely unfounded.

-|-

Toby and Claire didn’t spend much time in the dorm room after all, but Wirt didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that the two kept talking about something and didn’t want to say too much around him. All he understood was that it involved someone else named Jim—likely as not, the third in the high school photo Toby had taped above his desk. Considering the only others up there was one of his nana with her cat and one of him with Wirt and Wendy, it seemed a safe enough bet.

They talked about a few other people, but most of those were by some nickname. More to the point, they were nicknames he didn’t recognize, so even if Toby had told him about these people, he couldn’t piece it together. (Though he had no idea how someone got to be named Blinky, Not-Enrique had to be some inside joke. Maybe he looked like someone named Enrique and kept getting mistaken for him by people who only knew Enrique?) Anyway, it was too hard to keep them straight when he wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping in the first place.

It wasn’t until Claire was actually gone that Wirt finally worked up the courage to ask Toby about the stuff he’d heard. “Is your friend in trouble?”

“Claire?” Toby spun his desk chair around to face Wirt, who was sitting on his bed. “She’s always in trouble. Mostly because she’s helping other people out of it.”

“No, the other one. Jim. I heard you guys talk about him, and you sounded worried.”

Toby blew out a breath. “That’s complicated. Claire’s going to keep me posted. Right now, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Wirt smirked. “So not the start of the apocalypse?”

“Not yet, anyway.”

“Great. Means I can actually focus on my last couple of midterms.” He knew Toby’s were over—at least, his first round was; he had a few classes that had two midterms—which was probably the only reason he’d survived Claire’s visit when most others were studying.

It was funny, though. He’d have figured, if Claire’s college did have a reading week in the fall, that it would be _after_ midterms, but this was the middle of October. It was prime midterm season.

“Hey, uh, where’s Claire study, anyway? I don’t remember.”

“She’s in New Jersey. Small place. You won’t have heard of it. I never had.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Try me.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “Heartstone. Happy? Anyway, since you apparently don’t acknowledge your text messages, Wendy said to give you a heads up that she’s got a couple friends coming to town for a few days, too. High schoolers scouting out potential colleges, including our stomping ground. She wants to know if we can meet them for supper at some point.”

Toby was right—he _hadn’t_ heard of Heartstone—but the subject change gave Wirt pause. Toby was usually happy to talk about his other friends. Honestly, he was usually happy to talk about anything. Especially when it was an excuse to procrastinate on his homework.

Wirt decided to ignore it for now and gave a shrug. “Any day should work for me. Next week’s pretty open. Mostly just writing papers.”

“Awesome. It should be good. From what she tells me about them, you’ll love them.”

“I’m sure I will.”

-|-

The Pines twins didn’t fit Wirt’s idea of normal, either. He was beginning to doubt that anyone his roommate (or his friends) knew ever would. It wasn’t Mabel’s love of homemade sweaters or the way Dipper almost _immediately_ asked him about the Unknown (why had Wendy told him about an old assignment, anyway?) when they met up at the restaurant just off campus. It wasn’t the way they sometimes finished each other’s sentences, either, because judging by their grins, they were hamming it up for his and Toby’s sake. It was more….

Well, it was the fact that when the subject somehow turned to cryptozoology, they knew _a lot_. 

Even Toby looked surprised, though in all fairness, he looked happy about it. And some of his questions were…oddly specific. The twins looked delighted. Wendy was just smirking as if this was going exactly as she’d expected.

Wirt had hoped the conversation would change when Jazz joined them for dessert, but it just made things worse. She wasn’t so much skeptical of their stories as she was analytical. Like she wanted to learn as much as possible even though none of it was real. She kept asking questions. And no matter what she asked, they had answers—Dipper especially. 

Wendy had given him a playful nudge when she’d finally interrupted to bring up demons. Dipper’s face darkened, like he wished she’d left well enough alone, but he and Mabel were able to spin yet another tale. Jazz looked delighted. Wirt couldn’t remember if she’d brought up alternate dimensions or if it had been Toby, but that had easily been a half hour tangent. Wirt had no idea how they came up with these things. Sure, the Unknown had been real, or at least as real as it could be, but it’s not like pocket dimensions or doors to other worlds existed all over the place. The twins’ stories were obviously fabrications even if they purposefully didn’t frame them like that, and Toby and Jazz and Wendy loved playing along—to the point that they’d keep asking his opinion on things even when he didn’t try to join the conversation.

But seriously. If gnomes were actually real, they wouldn’t vomit _rainbows_. That just…. It didn’t make sense. Rainbows were just light broken into the visible spectrum. If that light had no reason to refract and disperse in the first place—

He was thinking too much about this.

Just like he had about things in the Unknown.

At least these things were just stories.

-|-

Wirt found the sheets detailing exorcisms—both ghostly and demonic—mixed in with his schoolwork that night. He didn’t recognize the handwriting— _any_ of the handwriting, since it looked to be done by three different people—but the top piece of paper was addressed to him. _Wirt, hope this helps._ It was in the same hand as the majority of the notes.

Dipper’s, maybe. He’d talked more details than Mabel. And Wendy could’ve easily slipped the papers into his room since she had a key. He wasn’t sure about the third hand. Mabel had mentioned their grunkles, but he’d gotten the impression they were travelling somewhere. But considering the tiny, careful details that supplemented the first set of notes on the ghost section….

Was this why Jazz had had weapons?

Was it actually possible that Wendy had managed to wind up rooming with someone as crazy as she was in her own way? Someone who believed whatever story Wendy had fed her and didn’t find it weird to be asked to write up what was very likely pseudoscience at best? He’d thought Jazz’s major was something like psychology, but maybe….

Wirt flipped through the pages. One of them was definitely written mostly in Latin. Another was covered in a language he didn’t recognize at all, which is probably why the phonetic pronunciation was written in brackets behind every sentence. Another was English but filled with words he didn’t know. 

He wondered what the heck he’d gotten himself into. 

Maybe he should transfer somewhere else. Or at least put in for a different roommate for next term. Distance would help, would it?

Except, insane as it sounded, insane as the situation was, it seemed like his friends were just trying to help him. Maybe Wendy really had realized the truth of what he’d written up for his English assignment. Maybe _that’s_ why she wouldn’t let him get away with waving it off.

But if she didn’t just believe it was real because she apparently seemed to believe everything like it was real, what was her story? And Toby’s, since he was the same way? Claire’s? Mabel and Dipper’s? Even Jazz’s?

“They have to have just been telling stories,” Wirt said aloud.

But Toby wasn’t around to reassure him, and he couldn’t quite convince himself.

-|-

It was past midnight some weeks later when Wirt saw the…creature. 

He woke shivering, pulling the blankets around him, and then he realized that the draft from the window above his bed was stronger than usual. It wasn’t whistling like it did when the wind was from the north, and it wasn’t like Toby to accidentally leave it open.

He was about to sit up to double check when something moved, momentarily blocking the light as it squeezed inside.

Wirt was too terrified to breathe. He knew it couldn’t be the Beast; if nothing else, it was far too small to be the Beast if it could fit through the window so easily. It could have torn through the screen, but he hadn’t heard breaking glass. It must be dexterous enough to have pried the window open.

It was too dark to make out details when the thing moved so fast. It was small. Dark and muddied in the dim light—green, maybe, or blue or brown or even grey—but either with distinct markings or wearing something a little bit lighter, too. Whatever it was, it scampered across the wall on all fours, not seeming to see him. At least, if it did, and if it noticed he was awake, it didn’t do anything. It just dropped something on Toby’s bed, on the pillow he hadn’t drooled all over, and then let out something that was either an honest-to-goodness _laugh_ or a freaky, growling call. It dropped the floor between their beds but was gone when Wirt blinked again, before he ever got a better look at it. 

The light was blocked off again.

He heard a snap.

Then a creak. 

Then the light was back, illuminating what might be…paper? A note? If it hadn’t still been on Toby’s pillow, Wirt would have thought it was a dream.

That morning, Wirt pretended not to see Toby scoop up the crumpled note without a word. Toby didn’t read it, didn’t even acknowledge its existence, and Wirt wondered if this had happened before. If he’d just never noticed until now.

If this wasn’t the first time, what _else_ had he never noticed before?

When Toby headed off to class, Wirt stayed behind. He was supposed to be in English right now, but he couldn’t….

That wasn’t important right now.

One missed class wouldn’t ruin his grade.

Whatever this was, on the other hand…. 

The screen on the window hadn’t been torn; the frame was a little bent, but it was hardly noticeable. There were no telltale gouges or anything of the sort. The window, as per usual, didn’t _quite_ close, but honestly, Wirt couldn’t remember if it ever had. Now, he was left wondering if this was why.

Wirt pulled down one of the notebooks from the shelf mounted above his desk, pulled out the loose-leaf sheets he’d stuffed inside, took a closer look at the notes on exorcisms he hadn’t thrown out like he should have.


	2. Chapter 2

Wirt spent almost every free moment he had in the library. 

In hindsight, it was rather inevitable that he’d run into Wendy’s roommate.

She found him first, sliding into a seat across from him and quietly clearing her throat. When he looked up, she pointed at the text he was reading. “That one’s hardly a reliable source,” she said.

He forced a laugh. “It’s paranormal science. Nothing’s going to be a reliable source.”

Her features lost their hint of a smile, falling into a tight frown. “That one’s pseudoscience, not science. If you’ve seen something—”

“I never said I saw anything!”

She raised her eyebrows, purposefully darting her eyes around. He didn’t need to turn his head to know people were staring. This was the fifth floor. It had the most uncomfortable chairs. People didn’t tend to stick around and chat here; the lower floors were more popular for group projects that slid into conversational procrastination. Usually, ringing (or buzzing or dinging) phones or sneezes were the only things heard above murmured conversation, the hum of laptops, and rustling paper.

He sunk into his seat and lowered his voice. “Look, this is just for an assignment. It’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“You can talk to me, you know. I won’t think you’re crazy.”

Didn’t mean he didn’t think _she_ was crazy.

“Hey.” She waited until he met her eyes before continuing, “I’ve seen things that most people wouldn’t believe are real. And, no, it wasn’t just a one-off thing or something I ate. So if you need someone to talk to who won’t judge you, I’m all ears.”

“Thanks, but there’s nothing to talk about.” Wirt gathered up his books, ignored the hurt look on Jazz’s face, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was running away.

-|-

When Toby tossed a new pair of socks onto his bed when Wirt was trying to finish his paper on Machiavelli, Wirt just looked over at Toby. He didn’t even need to move the socks from the book they’d landed on; Toby knew the question for what it was. “I think I lost a pair last time I did the laundry,” he said. “Figured I should repay you.”

They weren’t pink and fuzzy, so it wasn’t payback for something he couldn’t remember doing. It was true that Wirt hadn’t been able to find a few of his socks, but he’d assumed they’d just gotten shoved under something and would turn up eventually. 

Sure, they hadn’t magically reappeared after yesterday when it had been his turn to do their laundry (they’d started taking turns because neither of them particularly liked scrounging for quarters or hauling everything to the machines), but he’d just kinda thought that he’d…missed them. He was missing a few singles, not a pair, so it had seemed more likely.

“Nana wouldn’t let me live it down otherwise,” Toby added.

“Uh, right.” Wirt could believe that. Toby’s Nana seemed big on doing the right thing, even if he wasn’t wholly convinced she always knew what the right thing was. At least, he was thankful for the cookies she’d sent them. The clean underwear ‘in case they got hit by a bus or into worse trouble’ had been a little more…questionable. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and Wendy says to stop avoiding her and ignoring her texts. She needs to talk to you.”

“I’m not avoiding her!”

Toby snorted. “I might’ve believed that if you’d come back with ‘about what?’, but whatever. She mentioned something about her roommate. Maybe that’s why.”

“Her roommate is nuts,” Wirt muttered, not caring about being charitable right now. It was…rough. Every assignment in class seemed to be due at all once, and he had trouble focusing on any of them with this…this…whatever it was hanging over his head. 

He had seen something.

He was _pretty_ sure it wasn’t something related to the Unknown, but that was only because he hadn’t recognized it. And because he was also pretty sure it was something Toby was involved in, and Toby….

Toby was weird, and the Unknown had been weird, but this felt…different.

Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions, though. There had to be a perfectly rational explanation for what he’d seen. Maybe it _had_ been a dream, and the paper had just been Toby’s study notes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep reading them. Or maybe it did have something to do with the Unknown after all. Somehow. He’d had nothing to do with it for years. Maybe he’d managed to forget what it felt like. He still had the journal with him where he’d written the entire experience down and had actually reread it in preparation for that creative writing assignment, but he’d never found the right words to recreate the feeling the Unknown had given him. Not really.

But…but if it did have something to do with the Unknown, why nothing until now?

Maybe Toby wasn’t even the target. Maybe things were just…reaching out. For him. 

Or maybe Toby had ended up in the Unknown once, too, and managed to escape?

No, he couldn’t have. He would have said something. Probably. Because he had to know it was far too unlikely that Wirt could just pull all that out of his hat if he’d been through a very similar experience. 

But if it wasn’t the Unknown, what else was there?

…Maybe he really had seen an animal? Just a trained one? There could have been someone outside the window to remove the screen and send in…whatever it had been. A racoon with weird colouration? Or something else that could climb like that? And be trained to carry messages? 

Maybe it was a robot. Just…a quiet robot. With random sounds programmed into it so no one got close enough to figure out what it was when it was sent out.

Or maybe Toby had another friend who was so good at that kind of thing that they were working on artificial intelligence and this entire thing was just a series of test runs.

Given the friends of Toby’s that Wirt had met, he was not about to rule out that possibility. Heck, for all he knew, it could be Jazz. She apparently had weapons stashed all over the place. Maybe she had advanced tech, too. That Wendy had found, since Jazz apparently couldn’t hide stuff from her. Wendy could have commandeered something and was using it to send messages to Toby in the middle of the night. Just because she could. He wouldn’t put that past her, either.

Toby snorted. “I don’t think Wendy would argue with you there. She still can’t believe Jazz practically lives in the library. But seriously. Talk to her. Or just go over there. She got out of class at four. She should be back by now. You don’t even have to text or call first.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to finish this.” Wirt made a vague gesture towards the laptop and the mess of books that had overtaken his bed. 

“You’ve been working on it since before I got back from my lab. Take a break.”

“I don’t have time for a break!”

“You’ll be more productive if you take one. Isn’t that what they say?”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “A five minute break and a fifteen minute walk to Wendy’s are very different things. Especially when you factor in a conversation and the walk back.”

“You still need a break. And the walk will do you good.”

Wirt argued.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised he lost.

-|-

“About time,” Wendy said, stepping back to let him in. She and Jazz were renting a tiny, two-bedroom apartment just off campus. It was cheap and showed its age, all chipped paint, worn carpet, creaking floors, and a musty smell that wasn’t _quite_ overwhelmed by the fumes from the fast-food joint next door. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if they wanted to be close enough to walk to campus, they’d have had limited options. Given the convenience, Wirt didn’t want to know how much the two of them had to cough up for rent each month. 

“Um….”

“It wouldn’t kill you to reply to your text messages, you know.”

“I was…busy.”

“And avoiding me.”

“And me,” Jazz piped up as she walked out to join them in the tiny entryway. “What do you want to drink, Wirt?”

“Uh….”

“I’ll get you some water.” She disappeared back the way she’d come, presumably to the kitchen. Wirt slid off his shoes and shrugged off his coat, which Wendy hung in the closet.

Two steps took him to the entryway of the kitchen, and if he didn’t turn, he’d head straight for the living room. He hesitated until Wendy pushed him gently from behind, prodding him forward. “Comfy chairs,” she said.

The chairs would feel more comfortable if he wasn’t walking into an interrogation. Jazz fished out a coaster from beneath a psychology text book and set a glass of water down on it beside him, and she sat in the chair on the other side of the end table. Wendy snagged a rolling chair from a desk, wheeling it over to join them. Neither of the girls spoke.

“Um. I wasn’t, uh, avoiding you guys.”

Jazz’s eyebrows shot up. “Weren’t you? Really, Wirt, you can tell me. I grew up in Amity Park. I _have_ seen unbelievable.”

That might be so, but he’d never heard of Amity Park.

Wendy stretched, cracking her knuckles. “Gravity Falls isn’t without its stories, either.”

He stared at them. “Wait. This isn’t _still_ about that story I wrote about the Unknown, is it?”

“I don’t know, is it?” Jazz asked, turning the question back on him. “I rather thought it was about whatever you were researching in the library. Clearly, though, if the Unknown is involved—”

Why had he ever opened his mouth? He _knew_ what her major was. “It’s not.” That was unconvincing even to his own ears.

“But you brought it up.”

“She mentioned stories!” He pointed at Wendy, desperate for an out. She was just smirking and enjoying the show.

“But you immediately thought of the Unknown.”

Wirt was pretty sure Jazz had handed him the shovel and he was halfway into digging his own grave. “Because _someone_ would never let that drop. A couple someones, actually.”

“So Wendy and Toby have mentioned it recently?”

“Well, yeah.” Wirt stopped. 

Thought about it for a moment.

They hadn’t. 

Not for a couple of weeks, at the very least. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard them harp on about it since he’d seen the whatever-it-was. He hadn’t been spending a lot of time with either of them, too focused on figuring out what the heck he’d seen and not failing his classes in the meantime.

And from the look on Jazz’s face, she knew that perfectly well.

“Okay, so maybe not,” amended Wirt, even though he knew he was well past six feet under, “but it’s definitely been too often for something that should have been forgotten. Seriously. It was just a creative writing assignment. No one’s made a big deal about any of the others.”

“Maybe the others had a different sort of truth to them than this one did.”

Wirt frowned. “Wait, you haven’t read it, have you?” She shouldn’t have. He’d never shown her. But he didn’t trust Wendy.

“I know enough about it,” Jazz said, which wasn’t really an answer because she could _know enough_ about it if Wendy had told her or if Wendy—or, heck, maybe even Toby—had broken into his laptop and emailed her the file or copied it to a flash drive or something.

“It’s. Just. A. Story.” He was tired of repeating himself.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Jazz said, leaning back in her chair. Wirt blinked. “How about I tell you a story, though?”

“Wait, what?”

“Can I tell you a story?”

He didn’t have time for this. That essay wasn’t going to finish itself. But…. “Like, a story story or—?”

Jazz smiled. “A ghost story.”

He couldn’t tell if she was kidding. A quick glance at Wendy confirmed she hadn’t expected this, either. Still, she looked…interested, leaning forward and finally focusing on Jazz instead of him.

“Amity Park has its share of ghost stories,” Jazz added when he didn’t stop her. 

He still couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Was she just making stuff up to try to get him to talk? He hadn’t framed the Unknown as a ghost story for his assignment, but in hindsight it could’ve been read like that. And she _had_ caught him looking up different types of ghosts….

“They say the veil is thin there,” Jazz said, a quirk about her lips hinting at some inside joke. Wendy didn’t seem to get it, either. Frankly, Wirt was surprised she didn’t know the whole story already. He’d kinda figured she’d have gotten it out of Jazz by now—especially if she’d found Jazz’s hidden weapons in less than a week.

…Was this why Jazz had weapons in the first place?

“Natural portals are abundant. Not between this world and the next, but between our world and the Ghost Zone, the realm where ghosts dwell—the ones not trapped on our plane of existence, anyway. One day, a pair of well-meaning scientists decided to set up shop and tear through the veil to create a doorway so that they could better study the world of ghosts. It wasn’t until after they’d succeeded that they realized the dangers of the other side.”

A ghost zone? Why not just call it the afterlife? Wirt opened his mouth, but Jazz held up a hand to silence him. “The people of the town adapted and even grew to accept the daily disruptions of ghost attacks.”

_Daily_? She was definitely making this up. He just had no idea why.

“But then one day, the Fright Knight arrived, heralding the return of his king and issuing a royal decree. Some of the people tried to fight back, and the entire town was punished for their efforts, completely subsumed by the Ghost Zone. The scientists were able to erect a protective barrier with the help of others, but they could not reverse the town’s transportation. They had been taken to another realm, and the town could not be restored by ordinary human means. Not alone.”

“Wait. You’re telling me an entire town got sucked into a different world?” Even for a story, it was a stretch. She had to know how that sounded. One or two people, even a larger group, sure. Fine. But an entire town? “I thought you were a psych major, not creative writing.” Although maybe this was why she wasn’t in creative writing. She had the basics down, but she went a little too far, even for the whole suspension of belief thing. The best ghost stories were the ones that could feasibly happen, that couldn’t quite be explained away by logic or circumstance. 

Now, what had happened to him and Greg? Okay, so maybe it didn’t sound _feasible_ to someone who thought it was just a story, but it had only been them, not everyone else who’d been in the graveyard. And the struggle of two people surviving a place like the Unknown made for a better story than an entire group who brought various eclectic skills to the table. Stories were better when there was a sense of risk, not a certainty of eventual triumph. 

Sure, the fact the town couldn’t be restored ‘by ordinary human means alone’ or whatever was probably meant to build suspense, but she wasn’t—

“Trust me, she’s a psych major,” Wendy said. “Now stop interrupting. Was there some kind of prophecy? There must have been if you couldn’t just fight your way out, right?”

Why…why was Wendy talking like this was something that had really happened to Jazz? Like it was a normal thing? Like she’d gone through something similar where there _had_ been a prophecy, and it had been important, since without it, she—and whoever else—couldn’t fight her way out? Jazz had straight up said it was a ghost story. 

Her names could use work—Ghost Zone? Fright Knight?—but then again, they might not be her names. If she wasn’t making this up, if she had heard the story as a kid or at summer camp or something, then it would be easier to keep the names the same rather than change them and forget what she’d called things mid-story. 

He wasn’t convinced she wasn’t trying to make some point with this, though. When Wendy had read his story, she’d wondered if he’d been talking about death. About the afterlife. He couldn’t blame her, given that he’d still called it the Unknown, but—

“To start everything,” Jazz allowed. “Prophesized power begins this story, really. Greed for it awakened the king from his slumber in the first place.”

Okay, so probably not making it up on the spot unless she was _really_ good at that kind of thing. He didn’t know her well enough to tell. He couldn’t think on his feet half as well as Greg, but it was a good skill to have, and if she was planning on being a psychologist, it would make sense that she could adapt to whatever was thrown at her better than other people.

“But the prophecy didn’t end it? Didn’t hint at a way to defeat the king?”

“Only what must be done was known, not how it would be accomplished.”

“Well, teamwork, obviously,” Wirt said. That’s how these things went. Especially when there was a townful of people to help.

“More calling truces, uniting foes against a common enemy, and fighting for survival and a way of life as much as for friends and family, but yes. Teamwork. Pariah Dark could never have been defeated by any one person alone, nor even by a small group.”

Maybe this was some old camp story and she’d just changed it to a town from a bunch of campers to make that fact less obvious. It had a moral to it and everything. Work together, help each other out. Maybe even unite against an opposing cabin despite initial opposition within. Jazz might’ve spent a summer as a counsellor somewhere. It would’ve given her an opportunity to work with kids from various backgrounds, which would stand up as good experience when she got to job hunting.

And it would explain why she seemed to know this story so well.

“But sometimes it’s a small group or one person who makes all the difference in the world,” Wendy said softly. “When it comes down to the wire and greater risks need to be taken. Sometimes, only one person can choose to make that sacrifice, even when others want to help.”

Jazz raised her eyebrows, and Wendy’s defensive barrier immediately fell back into place as she sat up. “What? Wirt’s the only one allowed to predict how this went down?”

Seriously, why was she saying that like it had happened?

“Of course not,” Jazz said. “I just…hadn’t realized.”

Hadn’t realized what?

“Anyway, keep going.”

No. Wait. Hadn’t realized _what_? What was he missing?

“It’s like you said. They came together, friend and foe alike, and helped turn the tide. There was even one who sacrificed more than the rest, and, really, it is that smaller group you mentioned that ensured he didn’t lose everything in the process.” Jazz shrugged. “But it’s just a story.”

“But….” No. She wanted him to ask. She must. That’s why she’d cut things off so abruptly. If he asked, he’d be playing right into whatever trap she’d set. Because there had to be something. He’d walked into enough of them already to know that.

Maybe Wendy didn’t believe this as much as she seemed to and was just playing off Jazz. To get to him. And get him to…something. He wasn’t even sure. What did they want, for him to admit that the Unknown wasn’t just a story? Why? So they could laugh at him for believing such a thing? That didn’t make sense. They weren’t cruel.

So what were they really after?

Wirt suddenly realized Jazz and Wendy were staring at him, waiting for him to continue. He swallowed. “Um, I mean, stories, ah, sometimes have a bit of truth in them, and….” And something. He didn’t know where he’d been going with that. Nowhere, probably.

Jazz smiled. “Exactly.”

Wait.

“What’s the truth in your story, Wirt?”

He’d walked right into that, hadn’t he?

Maybe he could still pull this off and convince them to drop it for good. “That I had fun imagining it?” he offered. He needed them to believe him when he said it was just a story.

“Ideas come from somewhere,” Wendy pointed out.

Of course she wouldn’t drop it. That would be too easy. “Yeah, a dream, but who knows before that. I just remembered some of what I’d been dreaming about and made up what I didn’t.”

For a split second, identical expressions of fear passed over the girls’ faces.

And then they both managed to school their expressions into a more normal response, mainly boredom (Wendy) and allowance (Jazz). 

He had no idea what they’d been thinking.

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know.

He had a feeling he’d find out eventually, though. One way or another. He just wished he knew now whether or not they were in this together. They probably were—Jazz was still more acquaintance than friend in his book, since he didn’t know her that well, despite whatever this was—but if they were, why hadn’t Jazz filled Wendy in on her plan? And if they weren’t, why would Jazz bother with any of this in the first place?

This didn’t make sense. 

Wirt drained half his water, just so he didn’t have to fill the silence, but that only gave Jazz the opportunity to ask, “Do you dream like that often?”

“What?” It was a weird question. “You mean like where I remember it, right? Aren’t we supposed to dream every night even if we don’t remember them?”

Jazz just smiled.

“Well…no? I don’t usually remember my dreams. I guess I just woke up at the right time with this one.”

They looked relieved.

Why did they both look relieved?

“Do you ever have lucid dreams?” pressed Jazz. “Where you’re aware that you’re dreaming and can take control of it?”

He had no idea where this line of questioning was supposed to be going. “No. I mean, _maybe_ once, just kinda steering away from a nightmare if that counts, but I don’t know for sure. Nothing that I really remember.”

“How often do you have nightmares?”

That one came from Wendy, and it was seemed to add credence to the idea that they were working together after all. “Not really often? I don’t remember the last one I had.” Because he was certain that he’d really seen something, that it hadn’t just been a nightmare. It couldn’t have been. Not when the note had been there the next morning. “C’mon, guys, what’s this about? You have to know how weird all this sounds.”

“This is your standard for weird, then,” Jazz said, as if that clarified something.

“Well, yeah? It would be anyone’s standard, wouldn’t it?”

Wendy glanced at Jazz. “Kinda makes him seem sweet and innocent for thinking that, doesn’t it?”

Okay, that confirmed it. They were in this together. And trolling him. They _had_ to be. 

Wirt got to his feet. “Look, this has been…fun, I guess, but I really need to finish my essay. Are you satisfied that I’m not avoiding you now?”

“Answer your text messages like the normal person you claim to be,” Wendy shot back, “and then I’ll believe that.”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Fine, but don’t expect instant responses. Like I said, I’m busy.”

“Aren’t we all?” Jazz was smiling again as she rose to join him, but he couldn’t see falsehood hidden behind it. Maybe she was just a genuinely cheerful person. Or, more likely, she was deeply amused by his reaction to all of this. “Thanks, Wirt. You’ve been a great help.”

A great help for _what_?

“A good sport,” Wendy agreed. She didn’t move from her chair. “Don’t be a stranger, Wirt. You and Toby can come over for supper on the weekend if you want. I’m teaching Jazz to cook, but I promise she’s past the point of accidentally poisoning you.”

“I’m not _that_ bad.”

Wendy snorted. “You ate raw pierogies and then asked me if they were supposed to be that hard.”

“That was _one time_.”

“Yeah? Well, just because you cut the mouldy part off the tomatoes—or anything else—it doesn’t mean the rest is fine.”

“Um. I think I’ll pass on your home cooking,” Wirt said, overriding Jazz’s mutters about not being used to food lasting long enough to spoil like that. “I’m on the meal plan anyway, just like everyone else in res.”

“Like that’s any better. I may not eat there, but I’ve heard stories.”

“It’s better than your food was at the beginning of the year,” Wendy pointed out. “And don’t even get me started on your scavenging skills. If you were left on your own in the woods, you’d eat something poisonous the minute you started looking for food.”

Jazz frowned but didn’t deny it, which probably meant her scavenging skills were on par with his. “Just face it, Wendy. We’re not all going to survive the apocalypse,” joked Wirt.

She glared at him. “At least Jazz can hit a target.”

“That took me a while,” allowed Jazz, “but ghost hunting pays off.”

No. She was kidding. He knew that. He’d started it. He’d opened the door with the apocalypse quip. Of course she’d walked through it. She was friends with Wendy. Roommates. Which had to rub off. That comment had nothing to do with her old campfire story. 

…Right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Lumanae!

Wirt got the email from Jazz the next day. He didn’t realize it wasn’t just spam at first—all it contained was a link, no subject or explanation—but then he noticed it was a link to a news site, and it didn’t take him long to figure out that it was a _real_ news site, so he went to the story she’d sent.

Action News, Channel 4. Tiffany Snow. Lance Thunder. And…a town that had disappeared.

“Whatcha reading?” Toby asked as he entered their room.

“Nothing,” Wirt muttered, but he didn’t manage to close the link fast enough. Toby was already looking over his shoulder.

“Ghosts, huh? I guess that makes sense.”

“What?” Wirt twisted to look at Toby, who’d dumped his backpack onto his bed and dropped down beside it. 

“Ghosts. I mean, there are enough stories about them, right? Some of them had to be true. And they had to come from somewhere.”

Wirt had been halfway through the story when Toby had come in; there was no way he knew the story had been about Amity Park. About Jazz’s experiences. So maybe he just thought Wirt was some kind of closet conspiracy theorist and _ghosts_ were the proposed answer to some mysterious ‘missing town’ story.

But even if he did, he was taking it…rather calmly.

“Yeah.” Wirt’s voice was too high. “Crazy, right?”

Toby snorted. “I wouldn’t call ghosts crazy.”

…or maybe Toby was the person who secretly believed in every single cryptid.

Well, that was a bit unfair. Ghosts weren’t exactly _out there_. They weren’t on par with some alternate dimension. Well, except for the fact that they lived in this Ghost Zone place, which was apparently real. Somehow. Despite everything he’d ever heard about the ‘other side’. Maybe it was another name for the place beyond the veil or something like that? The veil being reality, not just life?

Wirt let out a slow breath. He needed to stop jumping to conclusions. “Why’s that?” he asked, trying to sound like he didn’t care if Toby bothered to answer or not.

Toby’s smirk told him he’d failed miserably on that front, but the other boy answered, “Think about it. People die, and it’s nice to think something happens afterwards, even if it’s that. Besides, ghost stories aren’t exactly limited to one area of the world. And just because you haven’t seen one personally, doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”

“So you believe in ghosts?”

“I believe in a lot of things,” Toby admitted. “High school was kinda crazy. Coming to uni was actually a break I didn’t know I needed.”

Wirt stared at him. He didn’t know if he should ask. Did Toby mean _crazy_ as in _I saw a ghost_ crazy or _crazy_ as in _the crowd I hung out with was wild and the little I actually remember of high school is crazy _? Except Wirt hadn’t noticed any terribly questionable habits of Toby’s, barring his odd enthusiasm and surprising skill for Wendy’s apocalypse training, and he’d never found or smelled anything suspicious on him, and—__

__“What, can you honestly tell me you had a normal high school experience?” Toby asked, raising his eyebrows._ _

__Wirt winced._ _

__Multi-dimensional travel, if that’s even what the Unknown was, didn’t fall under _normal_. But it had been one time, and—_ _

__“Look, Wirt, I’ll be straight with you.” Toby leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands . “I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe, and that’s why I don’t think your little Unknown story is just a story. Can you honestly tell me it is?”_ _

__Jazz was right; Toby hadn’t brought up the Unknown in months. And now Wirt wasn’t entirely sure if he was doing so now because Wendy had filled him in on yesterday’s conversation._ _

__“Um.” He didn’t know how to get out of this, but he was definitely willing to try. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”_ _

__Toby looked disappointed, but all he said was, “I’ve got an hour before bio starts. We should work on your aim.”_ _

__“In case the apocalypse hits before supper?” Wirt joked, grateful Toby had let the subject drop._ _

__“So you can be confident in your skills for when you need them,” Toby said, reaching over to his desk where he kept the darts. “Come on; you get first shot at the bad guy.” He nodded at the target on the back of their door._ _

__Wirt took the offer for what it was, and he didn’t protest Toby’s impromptu decision to play, even though he still questioned Toby’s reasons._ _

__-|-_ _

__Toby was asleep when Wirt finally thought to look up different universities and colleges in New Jersey, and he pulled out his laptop to do that as quietly as he could. He couldn’t remember where exactly Toby had said Claire went, but he was confident he’d know it when he found it. He remembered that it had started with an H, and—_ _

__He found a list of universities and colleges in New Jersey. Hackensack, Hackettstown, Hillside, Hoboken, Howell….. It wasn’t any of those places. And nothing else in the list sounded remotely familiar, either. But he _knew_ Toby had said New Jersey. Why would he lie about something like that?_ _

__Wirt spent the rest of the night alternating between looking up the towns and names of post-secondary education in different states and reading through the news archives for Amity Park’s local station._ _

__He never found anything regarding Claire’s whereabouts, and every story he read about Amity Park made him wonder if he was really on some joke website, something that took the ridiculous and framed it as real. There seemed to be no outside references to the apparent constant haunting of Amity Park, but there also seemed to be very little outside references to Amity Park in general._ _

__It was like someone didn’t want others to find out the truth about Amity Park, and whoever they were, they figured the local news was ridiculous enough to be dismissed._ _

__Wirt looked it up, just to be safe._ _

__Amity Park was a real place, but all he found out about it was that it was apparently _a nice place to live_. Which probably meant it wasn’t really haunted. Right? After all, why would a ghost fight other ghosts? For territory, like some theories suggested? To be a hero, like most seemed to believe? For that matter, how could ghosts _fight_? Weren’t they just…echoes of the living? Memories stuck reliving events of their lives or something like that?_ _

__Okay. So Jazz had said she hunted ghosts. And the news made it clear that the Fenton family was apparently famous in town for doing that. At least, the people Wirt assumed were Jazz’s parents were apparently famous for it. Or more like infamous._ _

__They were also the scientists in Jazz’s story._ _

__And maybe it was the fact that it was nearly four in the morning, maybe it was the fact that the news website seemed legit enough, despite the incidents being reported, but it was _really_ starting to seem like it wasn’t just a story._ _

__Especially…especially given what he’d seen. In this very room. When he most definitely had not been dreaming._ _

__Ghost? Demon? Something he’d never heard of? Anything seemed like it was possible._ _

__Toby had lied about Claire, after all. Wirt knew he wasn’t just misremembering that._ _

___I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe._ _ _

__He’d assumed Wendy had slipped him the weird exorcism notes. Her and Jazz, since Jazz apparently knew a lot about ghosts from her parents and, well, life in Amity Park, if he was going to believe all of that. Which he might as well at this point._ _

__Jazz had called out the books he’d been reading in the library as pseudoscience, which really meant he had no idea how much of what he’d been researching was even true. And, sure, he _did_ have another creative writing assignment coming up where he could put his research to good use, but…._ _

__But this wasn’t just a story. There was more truth in this story than most. There had certainly been more truth in _Jazz’s_ story than he’d expected. So maybe Toby wasn’t pulling his leg about seeing things he thought Wirt wouldn’t believe. If Jazz had grown up around ghosts and he’d wound up in the Unknown, maybe Toby really did have a story. Maybe even Wendy, too, based on her weird comments during Jazz’s story._ _

__And their odd shared concern over his dream excuse._ _

__And her insistence that they all prepare for the apocalypse, though from what he knew of Wendy’s family, that might just be par for the course for them anyway._ _

__“Maybe I’ll ask in the morning,” Wirt murmured as he put his laptop away. “If he really is just pulling my leg, I’ll find out soon enough, and the worst that’ll happen is more teasing.”_ _

__But a moment later, he found himself back in bed, staring up through the black at the ceiling, unable to convince himself that a little bit of teasing would be far from the worse he’d face._ _

__-|-_ _

__Wirt slept in the next morning and was late for his first class. There was cursory evidence that Toby had tried to wake him before leaving for his own class—at least, a number of things had been thrown onto Wirt’s bed at some point, and he doubted he’d brought everything over himself—but he must have been sleeping like the dead. That’s what he got for spending most of the night doing research and reading ghost stories._ _

__It wasn’t worth making the fifteen minute hike across campus for the last ten minutes of class—he could check the audio recording of the lecture later against the posted notes—so Wirt just got dressed and debated the merits of having a decent breakfast this morning versus a muffin from the coffee shop by the library._ _

__He didn’t really expect his phone to start vibrating in his pocket this early in the morning—most of his friends were in class or still asleep—and he nearly didn’t answer it when he didn’t recognize the number, but— “Hello?”_ _

___“Wirt? It’s Jazz. I need a favour.”_ _ _

__Wirt blinked and vaguely remembered that Wendy had sent him a text a while ago asking if she could give his cell number to Jazz, and then another, a few hours later, that she had. Something about _needing to establish chains of contact in case the worst happens_ and whatever else. Typical Wendy stuff._ _

__“Uh, sure.”_ _

___“You don’t want to know what it is first?”_ _ _

__“Should I? I mean, you wouldn’t ask unless you thought I could do it, right?”_ _

__There was a snort on the other end of the line. _“Okay, because you’re helping me, I won’t tell Wendy you’re daydreaming through her survival lessons and doing the exact opposite of what she says you’re supposed to do.”__ _

__That was rather unfair. Sure, Wendy had said to always know the terms of whatever deal you’re making before you make it, and to be _very_ sure who you were making it with before you agreed to anything, but this was hardly a _deal_ , and it was Jazz, and—_ _

___“My brother informed me five minutes ago that he’s flying in today. I’ve got an exam this afternoon, and I can’t get a hold of Wendy. Do you mind just keeping Danny company until one of us gets home?”_ _ _

__Wirt frowned, not sure which part of what Jazz had said was the strangest. For one, she hadn’t asked him to actually pick Danny up from the airport, as he’d expected once she’d started talking. For another, he wasn’t entirely sure he bought the fact that Jazz couldn’t reach Wendy or didn’t already know that that would be impossible, since Wendy was fairly open about all of that with her friends—again, in case the worst happened. And why would Jazz’s brother want a complete stranger to _keep him company_? If it were him, he’d much rather be alone than pretend to be entertained by someone. “I don’t have a key to your place,” Wirt found himself saying, rather than the dozens of other things he wanted to say._ _

___“That’s fine. Danny can get in by himself, and you don’t have to stay at our place.”_ _ _

__“Uh—”_ _

___“If I let Danny spend any amount of time alone in the apartment, we’ll be finding the leftovers of his pranks for_ weeks _. And I’d rather not have to borrow an axe from Wendy to put a hole in the wall to get one of my textbooks. Or all of them.”__ _

__Given what Wirt had recently learned of Jazz’s childhood, and the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about her brother, he couldn’t be sure she was joking. Especially when he had no doubt Wendy would happen to have the perfect axe to use against a wall._ _

__Besides, that was a much more normal reason to ask him to hang around. It also explained why she hadn’t mentioned asking if he knew if Toby was free, too. Toby would just encourage practical jokes. Wirt had known Toby had a sense of humour since he’d introduced himself as a transfer student and assured Wirt that the reasons behind the transfer weren’t bad and that he ‘hadn’t murdered any humans or anything like that’. Honestly, after that, he really shouldn’t be surprised that things had gotten to where they were._ _

__“What time is he getting in?” He didn’t know why he was agreeing to this. Not that this was agreement. If he had class, Jazz would—_ _

___“Judging by where he was when he called? Around one, which is when my exam starts.”_ _ _

__And Toby’s lab. And his free afternoon that he usually used to catch up on stuff, whether that was schoolwork or sleep or the crazy research he’d taken to doing._ _

__“Okay.” He shouldn’t be agreeing to this. Just because Jazz had given him some proof that he wasn’t actually as crazy as he sometimes thought he might be—because if ghosts were real, it made the Unknown that much more real, too—it didn’t mean he had to do stuff like this in return. Honour requests for weird favours. “I’ll be at your place at one.”_ _

___“Maybe go for 12:30. He’s getting faster. Thanks, Wirt. I owe you one.”_ _ _

__She hung up before he could tell her he’d still be in class at twelve thirty, meaning he also never had a chance to ask her what the heck she meant by _he’s getting faster_. The speed with which Danny could set up various pranks? He couldn’t think of what else she could mean._ _

__Wirt spent the next twenty minutes or so trying to figure out how he was supposed to entertain a guy just like Jazz who loved practical jokes and had presumably grown up hunting ghosts. Well, more accurately, he spent the time trying to convince himself he couldn’t text Jazz back and come up with some excuse— _I forgot I had a dentist appointment today_ —that would explain why he couldn’t do this. And then he had class, two back to back, and all he had time to do was text Toby a quick update as to what he’d found himself doing before he had to run to get to Jazz’s._ _

__He’d forgotten that he’d need to be buzzed in to even get into the building, and though he felt a little silly ringing the number for Wendy and Jazz’s apartment when he knew no one would be home, he did it anyway and hoped someone else would go out in the meantime so he could at least slip inside the building._ _

__Instead, someone answered. _“Hello?”__ _

__“Uh. Are you Danny?” Wirt knew Wendy had a lot of brothers, too, but he hadn’t heard of anyone else coming to visit. And, sure, he was late, but despite what Jazz had said, he’d been pretty sure Danny wouldn’t be able to get inside without help. As far as he knew, this was Jazz’s first year rooming with Wendy, and he hadn’t been aware that either of them trusted their neighbours enough to give them a key to their place._ _

___“You must be Wirt,”_ came the conclusion, and there was a buzz and a click as the door opened._ _

__Wirt climbed the stairs slowly, still half-regretting coming and completely regretting agreeing to this._ _

__The apartment door was cracked when he got there, and the teenager on the other side gave me a small wave. “Hey,” he said. “I’m Danny.”_ _

__He didn’t look very much like his sister, except in more subtle ways—the same nose, the same shape of the eyes, that kind of thing. He was about Wirt’s height but more gangly, like he was still growing. Probably was, really. He _looked_ young. Wirt had assumed that Danny was Jazz’s older brother, since he was suddenly coming to town for a visit, but now—_ _

__“Wirt.” He didn’t know what else to do, so he stuck out his hand, and Danny shook it. “Um, so what brings you here now?”_ _

__Danny shrugged. “Work?” It came out like a question, which didn’t help matters._ _

__Older and looked younger or younger and just through high school or what? Wirt still couldn’t tell. “Oh,” was all he said. “What kind of work?”_ _

__“I do some freelancing.”_ _

__Danny didn’t specify what kind of freelancing—didn’t seem inclined to specify—and Wirt wondered if Jazz’s brother had decided to take over the family business. Or at least learn the family business. And if there were ghosts in town, since that was the family business._ _

__He should really stop jumping to conclusions. Just because he knew Jazz (and her brother) had grown up in a haunted town, it didn’t mean _everything_ had to do with the supernatural—or anything else someone might consider out of the ordinary. It didn’t mean there was anything to Wendy’s comments, or to Toby’s oblique admissions, or to anything else that had happened. Jazz’s brother, Wendy’s friends, the _thing_ he’d seen in the middle of the night…. None of that had to do with him._ _

__Given Jazz’s concerns over potential pranks, and the fact that Danny had clearly beaten him to their place, Wirt thought it best to leave lest Danny continue rigging things even with a witness. It was winter, but Wirt and Danny wound up getting ice cream (since Danny hadn’t wanted coffee and he was fine with the cold) while Wirt showed Danny around campus until Jazz got out of her exam. The conversation was a bit stilted at first, a polite fumbling of trying to find some common interest more for Jazz’s sake than either of theirs, but eventually the awkwardness subsided and Wirt worked up the courage to ask Danny about Amity Park._ _

__Danny didn’t say anything for a few paces, instead stopping and pretending to admire the mitosis mosaic on the side of the biology building. Then, without turning to face Wirt, “It’s not as bad as it used to be. The ghosts, I mean. Things have settled down, more or less, except when a tour comes by, and then I swear they know what’s going on and come out just to show off.”_ _

__“Come out of the Ghost Zone?” Wirt asked tentatively._ _

__“Yeah.” No denial. No surprise at the extent of his knowledge, despite the earlier ambiguity._ _

__“And that’s…normal?”_ _

__This time, Danny turned to him, a ghost of a smile on his face. “It is in Amity Park. Not so much where you’re from?”_ _

__“Uh, no.” But Danny had to already know that. He must have known more than Wirt’s name from the get-go. Jazz was all about being prepared, if in different ways than Wendy, and she wouldn’t leave her brother without easy knowledge that she could provide._ _

__Even if that knowledge was supposed to be used to start up conversations._ _

__Or dig for knowledge about the one thing everyone seemed to be asking him about._ _

__Or maybe he was just being paranoid. Again._ _

__Danny grinned. “Yeah, I figured. So when did Jazz spill the beans? My friends and I have a bet. She can be pretty good at keeping a secret when she wants to, but sometimes she’s a worse liar than I am, and if she really wants to tell someone something, it’s hard for her to last too long without at least dropping a hint.”_ _

__“Uh—”_ _

__“Seriously. When did she stop trying to hide the fact that our parents are crazy ghost hunters?”_ _

__“She didn’t, um, hide that, exactly,” Wirt said slowly. “I’m just not, uh, her best friend, that’s Wendy, and—”_ _

__“Last week? Last night? Last month? C’mon, give me something.”_ _

__“She told me a ghost story yesterday,” Wirt confessed, “but kinda showed her hand before that.”_ _

__Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “Ghost story? Which one?”_ _

__“Disappearing town.”_ _

__Danny frowned. “Pariah Dark? Seriously? She might as well have gone with something about Plasmius. Talk about overly dramatic.” Catching Wirt’s shocked look, he added, “What? I was there, too. Don’t get me wrong, it was bad, it could’ve been _really bad_ , but the whole thing was Plasmius’s fault. Amity Park only got sucked into the Ghost Zone as a consequence of him being his usual greedy self and trying to steal Pariah Dark’s power.”_ _

__It was one thing to hear Jazz talk about it like it was just a story._ _

__It was quite another to hear Danny complaining about (and blaming) someone for starting the whole mess like he’d been the one to personally clean it up._ _

__“Trust me, Amity Park has a lot more _normal_ ghost stories. Y’know, things mysteriously disappearing, technology coming alive, people getting possessed…. The usual.”_ _

__“None of that is _usual_!”_ _

__“What, you’ve never had a lamp in your house that would sometimes turn on for no reason?”_ _

__“No!”_ _

__“Man, you’re lucky. Jazz and I had to suit up and shoot down our dinner after it got possessed. Multiple times. Even _after_ Mom and Dad stopped storing ecto-samples in the fridge.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Let’s just say take out is a staple for me. Jazz says she knows how to cook now, but when she left, the only things she could make were cookies and fudge, and I doubt she’s gone that much farther.”_ _

__Danny’s grin had grown._ _

__Wirt didn’t know how much, if any of that, was a lie. He knew Jazz wasn’t exactly a great cook, and he knew the best lies were mixed with truth, but hunting down possessed food?_ _

__“Right,” Wirt said slowly. “Maybe, um, we can just head back to my place. Toby’ll still be at his lab, but he might be finished before Jazz is done with her exam—”_ _

__“Jazz is always the last person to leave a room during a test. She won’t admit it, but she’s paranoid that she’s forgotten something if she leaves before anyone else.”_ _

__“—and if nothing else, we can play darts.”_ _

__Now, Danny wore a very distinct smirk. “I hear you need to work on your aim.”_ _

__Wirt rolled his eyes. “I thought you hadn’t met Wendy yet. Has she told everyone?”_ _

__Danny shrugged. “Jazz fills me in on important things. Besides, you can’t be any worse than Jazz when she first started. I think she had worse aim than our dad. Trust me, that’s saying something.”_ _

__Jazz filled Danny in on important things, but not him, even when she was asking a favour of him. Then again, despite Wirt steering the conversation towards the topic earlier, he still had no real idea of what Danny was doing here, beyond the vague excuse of ‘work’. Or how long he was planning to stay. Or if Jazz had really asked him to meet Danny because she wanted to see if Danny would have any luck getting him to talk about the Unknown._ _

__Though, since Danny hadn’t brought that up, maybe Jazz had mercifully left that bit out of whatever she’d considered important._ _

__“So which way to the dorms? You’re in res, right?”_ _

__“Right,” Wirt mumbled, as much in agreement as because the direction they needed to go was, in fact, to their right. Danny kept pace with him easily, despite Wirt’s quickened walk, and chattered on about embarrassing things Jazz had done as a child—and as a teenager—in case Wirt ever wanted to blackmail her later._ _

__To be honest, Wirt wasn’t sure he wanted to anger anyone who had connections to ghosts. If things had settled down in Amity Park, and if these ghosts could move, as his research had seemed to suggest, he didn’t want to find out Jazz could cash in an old favour and get someone to haunt him._ _

__It didn’t take them long to reach the dorms, and Wirt fished out his key, needlessly saying, “It’s this one,” as they stopped in front of his room. A moment later, he had the door open._ _

__And then he stopped._ _

__And stared._ _

__Toby wasn’t at his lab. He was inside with Claire—Wirt hadn’t even known she was visiting—and they were both in…armour? It _looked_ like armour, his some kind of bronze-plated getup, maybe, but hers was _purple_ , accented with black. They both wore helmets. He carried a huge hammer— _its head was practically the size of Wirt’s torso_ —and she had a silver staff of some sort topped with some kind of gem (he…wasn’t entirely sure it was just coloured class), and Wirt would swear something green had just winked out of existence behind them._ _

__He really needed to get more sleep._ _

__“Uh….”_ _

__“Costumes for drama,” Toby said, his eyes momentarily flicking past Wirt to acknowledge Danny’s presence behind him. “Claire had time to help me with mine.”_ _

__“Right.” He hadn’t been aware that Toby was _in_ drama. Maybe there was a club, too, not just the class? Or maybe it was some community thing, rather than something on campus?_ _

__“We’re just getting ready to show them off,” Claire piped up. “Might as well model them. Come on, Toby! Nice to see you again, Wirt.” She had a nod for Danny as she pushed past them, dragging Toby with her._ _

__Wirt stared after them. Danny squeezed past him, mumbling something about using the washroom and disappearing into the three-quarter bath. The door shut behind him with a sharp click, and Claire and Toby rounded a corner and were out of sight. Wirt shut the door and sat down on the end of his bed. He didn’t know why he found this weird. It was Toby. Toby seemed to be good at practically anything he tried, and making some kind of armour for drama class was weird but not exactly unheard of._ _

__And, okay, he’d never seen a script or walked in on Toby practicing lines, but if he was just helping with props or costume design or whatever, he might not _need_ a script. Maybe. If they were assigned different ones to do. _ _

__Claire being here was…unexpected, though._ _

__New Jersey wasn’t only an hour’s drive away or anything like that. Heck, it wasn’t only a day’s drive away. It was even longer than an hour’s flight. Claire wouldn’t have just popped by to help Toby make a costume, let alone as realistic a costume as that had been. There would have been some warning, some plan beyond making a costume, and—_ _

__His phone vibrated. Jazz. She was out of her exam. Danny had probably gotten the same message, but Wirt called out to him just in case._ _

__No response._ _

__“Danny? You, uh, okay in there?”_ _

__Again, nothing. Wirt knocked on the door and repeated Danny’s name. He was still met with silence, so he tried the door. It wasn’t locked, and he opened it slowly enough to give Danny plenty of time to shove it closed, but he was never met with resistance._ _

__The washroom was empty._ _


End file.
